


Under The Mistletoe

by chaoticsarahh



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Canon Divergence, Christmas party shenanigans, F/M, Hopeful Ending, Light Angst, The Room of Requirement Ships It, sixth year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:35:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29407032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticsarahh/pseuds/chaoticsarahh
Summary: “Those are the rules.” Draco’s lips brush the shell of Granger’s ear, and her entire body shudders, making Draco’s nerve endings light up. His hot breath is on her neck when he whispers, “We all know you don’t break the rules.”Hermione Granger pays more attention to Draco Malfoy than she'd care to admit. She's shocked when she invites him to Professor Slughorn's Christmas party, and he actually accepts.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	Under The Mistletoe

Draco is studying in the library on a Friday night like the loser he is. It’s eerie when the only other person around is Madam Pince. Draco shakes his head and tries to concentrate on the Transfiguration essay he’s in the middle of writing. Keeping up with his schoolwork while also figuring out a way to kill Dumbledore has taken a greater toll on Draco than he’d like to admit.

But he can’t think about that now. Draco takes a deep breath and clears his mind. Thank Merlin for Occlumency. He’s feeling better when he hears someone’s heels clicking across the library floor. His eyes spring open, and he spies Hermione Granger, of all people, walking briskly towards him. He glances around. No, there’s not someone behind him she could be coming towards instead. Draco’s heart rate picks up as she slows down to stand directly in front of him, glancing around nervously.

She doesn’t say anything for a few moments, so Draco takes pity on her.

“Something I can help you with, Granger?”

Her eyes finally flick to his, and Draco inhales sharply. They were always such a pretty shade of brown, a shade - no. Draco shut down those thoughts quickly, working to clear his mind once more. 

“Yes, actually.” Granger pauses. “Can I sit?”

Draco gestures to the chair, and Granger slowly takes a seat. She’s staring at some spot in the distance, just over Draco’s shoulder. 

“You know Professor Slughorn is hosting a Christmas party for the Slug Club, right?”

Draco’s derisive grunt seems to indicate to Granger that yes, he is aware of the party, and she continues.

“So I need someone to go with, and I was wondering if, maybe, you’d like to go with me?”

No amount of Occlumency could hide the shock Draco knows is written across his face. Granger wants him to be her date? To a Christmas party? In public? Has she finally lost her mind?

“You know...you’re talking to me, right?”

Granger rolls her eyes.

“Yes Malfoy, I know who I am talking to.”

“Then why in Merlin’s balls are you asking me?” Draco replies, trying to keep the incredulity out of his voice.

Granger fiddles with her hair and does her best to look nonchalant, but Draco sees right through it. Something is clearly eating at her, and Draco wants to know what it is.

“I want to make Ron jealous. So I thought of the people that would bother him the most, and I considered Cormac McLaggen but-”

“-he’s a massive arsehole so pompous he makes me look humble,” Draco finishes her sentence for her, smirking at the upturned corner of Granger’s mouth.

“More or less. And you’re a close second after him.” Granger’s expression turns serious again, and her eyes nervously meet Draco’s. “So what do you say? It’s just one day, then you can go back to hating me.”

Draco leans back, crossing his arms and his ankles, evaluating Granger. He inwardly scoffs. As if he could ever hate her. Not that he’ll ever admit that.

“What’s in it for me?” Draco asks.

There’s a fiery glint in her eye Draco is afraid he put there. He tries not to notice the way Granger’s tongue darts out, licking her bottom lip before saying, “It’s not like you have anything better to do. You’re doing homework on a Friday night, which is something even _I_ don’t do.”

Granger leans forward, and Draco does his best not to count her freckles sprinkled across her nose. “You have no social life. It’s pathetic. _You-_ ” she has the audacity to accentuate the word with a poke to his chest, right in the center, leaving a scorching cavity Draco can feel long after she’s retreated back to her end of the table. “-need to get out more, and that starts with going to this Christmas party with me.”

She twirls one of her curls between her fingers. “Plus think of the chaos we could cause. The Brightest Witch of Her Age, stooping so low to take Malfoy as a pity date.” 

Draco glares at her, ignoring his flushed cheeks and racing heart. He would love nothing more than to kiss that stupid, smug expression off her face and tell her there are much more _interesting_ things to do in the library and- 

No. His feelings are running away from him yet again. He puts his walls back up, and opens his mouth, knowing full well what’s about to inevitably come out despite every alarm in his head screaming at him to say no. 

“Fine.” 

The single syllable is clipped with not a hint of emotion - Draco made sure of that - but Granger’s face lights up like she won a million galleons. 

“Brilliant! Meet me Friday at 8 outside the entrance hall. We’ll walk up together.” 

Granger flounces off before Draco has a chance to say anything, staring at her empty chair and wondering what the bloody hell he’s gotten himself into. 

*** 

It’s already 8:05 on Friday, and Draco is dragging his feet along the hallway, trying to delay the inevitable. He wasn’t sure if he was going to show up in the first place. This whole situation has bad idea written all over it. If he makes it out of the party alive, he will eat his wand. If he makes it out of the party without snogging Granger senseless, well. With each step Draco reminds himself she’s not _actually_ interested in him, and this is all a show for the stupid blood-traitor she wishes was her boyfriend. Although it may be hard to make him jealous without at least one kiss. 

Draco reaches the entrance hall and takes a deep breath, bracing himself for whatever may come his way. He vows to put all his stress, all his worry in a box in his mind and lock it up for tonight. Tonight is a fantasy. Tonight is about _her_. Draco turns the corner and stops in his tracks. Some distant part of his brain registers that Granger looks incredibly nervous, and her entire face transforms as soon as she sees him. But that’s not what floors Draco. 

She’s wearing Slytherin green. The Gryffindor Golden Girl is wearing Slytherin green. There is no mistaking it for emerald or a dark shade of teal, no. And the dress itself - it’s made of silk, and drapes over her frame in such a way that Draco’s breath catches in his chest. It makes her Yule Ball dress (which Draco reluctantly admits is burned into his memory) look like a cheap hand-me-down. 

Draco finally gets control of himself, and approaches her. 

“Granger.” 

“Malfoy.” 

They regard one another for a moment. Draco is back to not counting her freckles and not staring at the neckline of her dress as it brushes her collarbone every time she breathes. 

Draco regains his composure. He offers her his arm like the gentleman he is. Granger tentatively wraps her hand around his bicep. He preens a little as she strokes the soft velvet of his jacket. It’s a deep purple, so dark it’s almost black. His mother always said the color brought out his features. 

“Where to?” 

The question seems to startle Granger. She jumps and blushes, refusing to meet Draco’s eye. 

“It’s in Professor Slughorn’s office. Sorry, I thought you knew.” 

Draco begins walking, tugging on Granger to get her to follow. 

“I unfortunately do not have the honor of being one of the Slugettes.” Draco smirks down at Granger. “I think my Death Eater blood had a little something to do with that.” 

Granger finally looks at him, her disagreement written across her face. 

“Please. You’re too young. No more a Death Eater than I am.” 

Draco thanks his lucky stars for the upteenth time for Occlumency. His stomach sinks as he thinks about the Dark Mark burned into the skin of his arm Granger isn’t holding. If only she knew. She would probably run to tell Saint Potter and her Won-Won and they would hex Draco into oblivion. 

He yanks her close, and bends down to whisper in her ear, “You’d be surprised.” Triumph replaces his sense of dread as Granger looks shocked, glancing at his left arm and back up to his face. Draco offers her no clues, simply pulling her so she walks beside him, ignoring the heat from her body somehow making its way through Draco’s robes. 

They walk to Professor Slughorn’s office in silence. The music and chatter is already audible from 20 feet away. Granger pauses, causing Draco to jerk back as her hand tightens on his arm. 

“Not getting cold feet, are you Granger?” 

Her expression hardens into one of determination. A stab of longing pierces Draco’s heart. He wishes she actually wanted to be here with him, was actually excited to socialize with him in front of all her friends. 

But instead, here he was, her toy for the evening in hopes of making someone else love her. He supposes he should be grateful to get even this tiny slice of pretend. Because that’s all this is. Pretend. 

“Let’s go, Malfoy.” 

He lets Granger drag him into the fray. Professor Slughorn’s office is bedecked with Christmas cheer. Colorful banners hang from the ceilings. A band is blaring loud music that reverberates around the room. 

None of it matters because the room practically goes silent as soon as they walk in. The dozens of eyes unsettle Draco. He’s spent so much of this year trying to go unnoticed, and the sudden attention makes him uncomfortable. 

But like any good Malfoy, he refuses to be shaken. Draco snakes an arm around Granger’s shoulders - thank Merlin she picked a dress with sleeves so he doesn’t have to touch her bare skin. He would’ve combusted otherwise - and steers her towards a young Ravenclaw boy holding a tray of drinks. 

Granger accepts one and takes a sip, peering at Draco over the rim of her glass. 

He asks, “Regret it yet?” 

Granger meets Draco’s cool smile with one of her own. 

“The fun’s just getting started.” 

Her words send a shiver down Draco’s spine. In some alternate universe this girl was sorted into Slytherin. 

They mingle and make conversation with Professor Slughorn and some of the other adults at the party. Draco notices Blaise Zabini shooting him a puzzled look over Granger’s head. Draco shrugs in response. She’s in her element, animatedly talking and gesturing with her hand that isn’t wrapped around Draco. Her touch does funny things to Draco’s insides, and he would rather not think about it too much. 

There’s a lull in people, and suddenly Potter and Lovegood appear in front of him. Great. Potter looks uncomfortable and stiff, tugging at the collar of his dress robes and glancing at the tiny gap of space between Draco and Granger’s bodies. Lovegood appears nonplussed, blinking slowly at the air above Draco’s head. 

“Hermione. Malfoy.” 

Potter nods at Draco and smiles at Granger. He then eyes Granger’s dress. Draco can tell when the candle finally lights in Potter’s head. 

“Hermione, what are you wearing? That’s a...it’s-” 

“A lovely shade of green.” Lovegood saves Potter from himself, much to Draco’s disappointment. Draco’s eyes flick to Granger’s, gauging her response. A pleased little smile creeps on her face, and she leans into Draco. He inhales sharply when he feels the side of her body pressed to his. It’s such a delicious - and dangerous - warmth. Draco pulls himself out of his thoughts to hear Granger respond, “It’s Christmas! It’s festive!” 

Then she winks. Or more specifically, she winks at Draco. At least he’s pretty sure it’s directed at him. Her smile is coy, but there’s a fiery gleam in her eyes he couldn’t mistake. Potter is a sputtering mess, trying to make sense of the situation in front of him. Draco probably would be too if he didn’t have his walls up. 

Lovegood rescues them all by pointing out the cherubs flying around the room. Ugly little things, like wrinkly old men with wings, flit around the room carrying dangling sprigs of mistletoe. 

Draco eyes Potter, smirking. “Best be careful. I can think of at least a dozen girls who would hit one of those cherubs with a Confundus Charm in a heartbeat just to snog The Chosen One.” 

Potter blanches, staring at the cherubs with a healthy dose of trepidation. But it’s Granger’s snorting laughter that’s music to his ears. 

“I had no idea you were actually funny when you weren’t being a massive git.” Draco grins down at her, absolutely pleased at her...flirting? Could he call it that? For tonight, he will, and let himself dream. 

“You might have to watch out for the cherubs too, Granger.” 

A thrill goes through Draco when Granger’s cheeks flush. Maybe it’s just the alcohol. It’s probably just the alcohol. She stares into his eyes, blinking slowly. A knot of heat settles low in his abdomen. She raises her glass to her mouth, and lets her lips rest on the rim for a moment before sipping, eyes never leaving Draco’s. It does something to him he doesn’t want to put words to. Granger would probably curse him if she knew what was racing through his mind. 

It’s Lovegood’s surprised squeal of delight that breaks their trance. 

“Looks like this little guy chose you!” She glances between the silent Draco and Granger. Lovegood points to the cherub flying lazily above Draco’s head. “That means you have to kiss!” 

Draco’s eyes return to Granger’s. She won’t quite meet his, teeth chewing on her lower lip. He leans in. “Those are the rules.” Draco’s lips brush the shell of Granger’s ear, and her entire body shudders, making Draco’s nerve endings light up. His hot breath is on her neck when he whispers, “We all know you don’t break the rules.” 

Draco’s not sure who moves first, if he’s the one to pull back and press his lips to hers. All he knows is he is kissing Granger and his soul is on fire. 

He stops kissing her after a few seconds, scared he’s stepped too far, although Draco still believes snogging is the quickest way to make Weasley jealous. Granger’s chest is rising and falling rapidly, her breath coming out in short pants. She doesn’t look away from Draco’s mouth, and this time he knows it’s Granger who surges upward, hands clasped in his hair, dragging him down to meet her halfway. 

Draco misses Potter turning queasy and green, spinning around and jumping into conversation with the first person he spots. He misses Ginny Weasley appearing out of thin air, telling Lovegood she owes her two galleons because she _knew_ they would kiss before the end of the night. Draco is too involved in Granger, in the taste of her mouth - vanilla and champagne and the tangible tension between them. He wants to devour her, but in the middle of a Christmas party is not the place. 

Draco breaks the kiss, ignoring Granger’s whine of disappointment. He grabs her hand and leads her behind an ugly tapestry of someone fighting a dragon that Professor Slughorn is probably too fond of. Granger finally puts two and two together, because when he corners her against a wall, arms bracketing her body, her eyes are filled with desire. Draco bends down, pressing his forehead against hers. 

“Granger, tell me to stop.” 

She growls. Actually growls. 

“If you stop I will hex you so bad you’ll be in the hospital wing for a month.” 

Amusement bubbles up in Draco, but it is quickly stopped by Granger, kissing and sucking her way down his neck. He drags her back up to meet his lips, letting his fingers run free in her ridiculous, beautiful hair. 

There would never be a greater Christmas present than this one. The feel of her underneath his hands, underneath his body, is all he could’ve ever asked for. But reality comes trickling back to Draco, seeping into his brain as he tries to focus on Granger’s teeth gently tugging his lower lip. Maybe he isn’t the only one who wants to devour. But she shouldn’t want to devour him. He’s plotting to murder Dumbledore. He’s a 16-year-old Death Eater. And she’s the Golden Girl, the Brightest Witch of Her Age, and she should absolutely not want Draco Malfoy. If she wasn’t going to save herself, Draco would save her. 

He rips himself away abruptly, causing Hermione to stumble. His walls are firmly up when she studies his face, trying to make sense of the cold exterior that he so suddenly slammed into place. 

“What is it?” Hermione whispers, like she’s afraid of the answer. 

Draco steps away from her, willing himself to have the strength to do this. He was destined to crash and burn, but she didn’t need to crash and burn with him. He should have never accepted her offer to come to the Christmas party. It was just like the Dark Lord had said. He was a weak and foolish boy. 

“This was a mistake. I don’t care about you, and it’s best if we stop pretending like I did.” The lie is acidic on his tongue. He stares at her one final time for a moment that lasts an eternity, drinking her in before turning away and re-entering the party. 

Draco makes a break for the exit as fast as he can. He’s almost sure everyone is looking at him, but that’s not important. What’s important is hiding the tears threatening to fall any moment. Merlin, he’s cried so much this term. He’s doing his best to hold it all in until he gets...somewhere. His legs carry him to the Room of Requirement, one of the only places he can get some peace. Draco is halfway through the door when he hears her running after him. 

“Malfoy!” 

Draco ignores Hermione’s calls, entering into his little haven. As long as she doesn’t get to the door before it disappears- 

“Draco!” 

His first name sends a thrill through him. It sounds so lovely when Hermione - since when did she become Hermione? He shakes his head to clear the thought. 

He turns to find Hermione standing in the open doorway, surveying the shape the Room of Requirement has taken on. It is a small study, much like his back at the Manor, except instead of blacks and greys, it is bathed in golden light. A small wooden desk sits in the corner. Each wall is covered from floor to ceiling in books, save for the farthest, where a reading nook is carved out next to a window overlooking the castle grounds. 

“Why did you follow me?” he snarls. “I told you I don’t care about you. Can’t you take a hint?” 

Hermione steps through the door, letting it shut behind her, but carefully leaving a healthy bit of distance in between them. 

“Before you left, you stared at me too long. Like you were saying goodbye. And you don’t say goodbye to people you don’t care about.” 

Damn her. Damn her and her oversized brain. She was too smart for her own good. 

Draco stalks closer to her, close enough to spot her freckles he so desperately wants to kiss. But he doesn’t. Draco does his best to tower over her menacingly, pretending as if he hadn’t been on the brink of tears moments earlier. He ensures his voice is monotone, clipped and deathly quiet. 

“Let’s pretend I do care about you. The outcome is still the same. I still have this burned into my skin.” He tugs up his left sleeve, showing her the Dark Mark, angry and swirling. Hermione chokes on her breath. Her fingers tentatively reach out, but he yanks his sleeve back into place before she gets the chance. 

“You know nothing, Hermione. I’m supposed to kill Dumbledore.” He’s practically spitting in her face at this point. “You know what’s going to happen if I don’t? The Dark Lord will torture my mother, probably to the point of insanity. So even if I cared, I would want you as far away from me as possible, because I am not a good person!” 

His voice breaks at the last few words, much to his dismay. Draco straightens up to move away, but Hermione’s hands are too fast, darting out to grab his arms and holding him in place. As gifted a Legilimens as he is, Draco can’t read Hermione’s expression. 

“You...called me Hermione.” 

Draco scoffs, rolling his eyes. “That’s the detail you’re going to focus on?” 

Hermione ignores his comment, pulling him so close his body is almost pressed against hers. She lets go of his arms and brings her hands to his face. Her fingertips ghost over his eyelids, tracing the circles he knows are under his eyes and the hollows he knows are in his cheeks. She touches him so delicately, almost as if she is afraid he’ll run away. He wants to. Merlin, he wants to. It’s been...actually, he couldn’t remember the last time someone touched him with such care. The unfamiliarity of it all makes Draco’s heart seize. 

Hermione’s hands move to his shoulders and down his arms. She grasps his left and pushes up his jacket to reveal his Dark Mark once more. He tries to jerk away. Hermione allows no such thing. Her eyes bore into his, never wavering, as she traces the Mark gently with her fingertips, then brings it to her lips and gives it the gentlest kiss. 

Draco is frozen in shock. He must be dreaming. There is no way this could be real, that the girl he has secretly pined after for years wasn’t running and screaming that he was a Death Eater here to kill the Headmaster. 

But no. Hermione is taking his hands, eyes still searching for something in his. Her words are insistent and sharp, leaving no room for doubt. 

“You care. And I care. Let me in, Draco.” 

Her face crumples a tiny bit, and she imploringly adds, “Please.” 

Draco had no idea the power that one word could have over him. It’s like Hermione tunneled her way into his brain and blew through every wall he ever built, ripped open every box he kept tightly shut. There is no more Occlumency, no more mask to hide behind. It is just Draco and Hermione. 

He lurches, a strangled sob escaping from his chest. Hermione reacts immediately, crushing him into her, holding on tightly as he cries and cries and cries. He mourns the loss of his childhood. He mourns the carefree way he used to carry himself. He mourns what could have been, what should have been a year full of teen angst, and what was instead a year of constant dread and fear. 

Draco manages to calm down a little, or at least enough to shakily ask, “Why are you still here?” 

Hermione rubs soothing circles across his back, pausing a moment before responding. 

“You seem to think you’re a terrible person.” Draco snorts into her shoulder. There isn’t a truer statement. 

“Well, you’re not,” she continues. “You didn’t have a choice. I still don’t think you’re any more of a Death Eater than me. We’ll figure something out with Dumbledore. And we’ll make sure your mother is okay.” 

Draco sniffs and pulls back to look at her skeptically. All he can see is a fire burning brightly in her pupils. 

“I don’t care that Voldemort has set up camp in your living room,” she mutters fiercely, face imploring Draco to listen to her. “I’ll punch him in the face just like I did with you in 3rd year.” 

Draco lets out a watery laugh. 

“I don’t think that’s a great plan.” 

Hermione shrugs. “Then we’ll come up with another one. I want to help you. Please let me.” 

Draco feels like he should fight more, but he’s too tired of fighting. Finally, someone is offering him a hand, and as selfish as it may be, he will take it. 

“Okay.” 

Hermione flashes a brilliant smile. Then, she stretches up on her tiptoes and kisses his forehead. 

“Good.” She sighs, face falling just a touch. “I better leave. It’s getting late.” 

A rush of panic hits Draco, and he grabs her wrist. “Please, stay. Please.” 

Hermione must see something in his expression, because her eyes soften and she covers his hand with her own. 

“Okay. I will.” 

As if it was listening, the Room of Requirement groans and begins to expand. The walls of books fly backwards and a king-sized bed pops up in the middle. Off to the left, walls erect themselves around a bathroom. 

They look at each other awkwardly before Hermione gestures towards the bathroom and says, “I’m just going to - uh…” 

Draco nods a little too hard. “Yeah, go ahead.” 

She darts into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. Draco exhales shakily, running his fingers through his hair. So much has changed in the past couple hours, and now he’s going to sleep in the same bed as Hermione Granger. 

Draco sits on the edge of the bed to pull off his shoes. He begins removing his dress robes when he freezes. He needs pajamas. A freshly folded shirt and pants pop up on the bed a few seconds later, much to Draco’s relief. He quickly finishes undressing and puts on the pajamas. Draco hesitates a moment, trying to figure out what he should do next. If he extinguished the lights Hermione could trip, but she should have her wand, right? Ultimately deciding it would be best to already be in bed when she emerged, Draco plunges the room into almost-complete darkness, save for the moonlight streaming in from the window. Draco climbs into the bed, laying on his back with his eyes closed, listening for the click of the bathroom door opening. 

He’s almost asleep when Hermione comes out, quiet as a mouse, creeping across the floor to slide into the bed next to him. Draco is wide awake now, overly aware of her presence near him but not touching him. 

“Goodnight, Draco.” 

“Goodnight, Hermione.” 

He hears the rustle of the sheets as Hermione turns over, facing away from him. He bites back a sigh and closes his eyes, hoping for sleep to come soon. A few minutes pass when a thought suddenly strikes him. 

“What about Weasley?” 

Hermione offers a sleepy grunt, so Draco presses on. 

“You said you wanted to make him jealous. Was that...the only reason you took me?” 

The sheets rustle some more as Hermione turns over to face him. “No. Won-Won has his Lav-Lav and I couldn’t be happier for them.” Hermione’s tone drips with sarcasm but Draco doesn’t comment on it, letting her continue. 

“I mostly wanted to talk to you to see what was going on. I’ve been watching you these past few months and you seem...so withdrawn and sad.” She pauses a moment before adding, “I’ve always been fascinated with you.” 

Draco can’t contain his burst of laughter. “I’m flattered.” 

He bites his lip. A few seconds pass, and he whispers in a tentative tone, “I’ve always been fascinated with you too.” 

Hermione doesn’t say anything, and Draco starts to feel like the foolish boy he’s always told he is. Why would he say such a thing- 

Those thoughts are immediately silenced when Hermione scoots closer, resting her cheek against his chest and flinging an arm over him. One of her legs rests over his own. He watches with rapt captivation as his breath rustles some of her curls in the dim light. Maybe he’s not so foolish as they say if his decisions led him here. 

Draco drifts to sleep with a smile on his face for the first time in years. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang with me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/chaoticsarahh).


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